


I'm Fine

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie, yespolkadot_kitty



Series: As You Are [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Soft Loki, disabled, spoonie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Spoons pushes herself too far and takes a tumble. Loki is there to pick up the pieces.





	I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the always lovely yespolkadot_kitty! She's the real MVP!

Sometimes you didn’t listen to your body.

You should have stopped and taken a break after doing all of the dishes left over from the breakfast you had decided to make. But doing the dishes, you noticed that the counters needed a good wipe down. But while you were wiping down the counters you noticed that the floors were also pretty grubby, so you’d busted out the mop and taken care of that. By that point you were shaking from exhaustion and pain, but that part of your brain that told you to just _‘Stop!’_ had taken a break and never returned.

So, in the middle of carrying a load of laundry across your small apartment, your back finally gave out and you tumbled to the floor. Fire exploded from your elbow, hip, and temple from the impact, and a cry tore itself from your throat. You were a creature of pain, curled up among your once-clean clothes, fighting the spasms that wracked your muscles as hot tears - partially born of shame - streamed down your face.

If you could only suck it up and crawl over to the couch, you could calm down the worst of the agony. But your meds were in the bathroom, so you’d still have to work your way there. You were quickly spiraling into the depths of your despair, fueled by frustration more than anything, when you heard your front door creak up.

“Kitten, I brought - What happened?”

Of course Loki would show up now.

He was at your side in an instant, green eyes wide with concern as he knelt among your clothes. “How can I assist you? What do you need?”

He’d seen you in pain, he’d seen you exhausted beyond all belief, but he’d never seen you so hurt and so angry that you were reduced to tears. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but you also needed to get up off the floor if you had any hope of being able to even walk tomorrow. 

Avoiding his gaze, you tried to lift yourself up onto your elbows, which only resulted in you gasping as the red hot fire of your battered nerves stole your breath away. Panting, you clenched your eyes shut, opening your hands in surrender to the god still leaning over you. “I hate asking it, but can you put me on my bed?”

“What else can I do?” he asked, carefully sliding his arms beneath you, cradling you to his chest. Your fingers clutched onto the lapel of his shirt, loose as the first few buttons had been left undone, and you breathed in the calming scent of citrus and leather that perfumed his skin. 

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, even as your face twisted in the discomfort of him gingerly laying you down on your bed. _There goes any sexual feelings he ever had for me._

The bed pitched beneath you as he settled next to you, and you gritted your teeth when his warm, calloused fingers just barely grazed the growing lump on your forehead. “You are _not_ fine. What do you need?”

Stubborn to a fault, you opened your eyes and tilted your head enough to look at him. You tried for a reassuring smile, but even you could tell that it didn’t sit quite right on your face. “I’m okay, really. What’d you bring?”

You hadn’t ever really been on the receiving end of his wrath before, and even the taste of it hardening his eyes was enough to make your heart stutter in your chest. “Do not lie to me, kitten. You cannot even move and you are still crying. Now, tell me the truth, foolish Midgardian.”

Successfully chided, although he’d added gentleness to his tone, you bit your bottom lip and wiped at the tears betraying your true emotions before letting your hand fall onto the bed next to you. “Two pain pills and a muscle relaxer, please.”

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned quickly with the pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Better. Have you eaten today?”

You took the medicine gratefully and managed to stretch your arm enough to put the glass on your nightstand. Not wanting to get in trouble again, you shook your head. “No, I might’ve forgotten…”

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to look at you. Sadness furrowed his brow as he took you in, and you could easily convince yourself that what he was truly feeling was pity. Everyone did at some point, why not him?

“Luckily, I came prepared with dinner. I needed to pay Nai Nai a visit, and she sent along her noodles. She calls them bee hoon, for you. Her daughter, about your age, is, she tells me, quite obsessed with them. Will those suffice?” 

“Yes please.”

He returned some minutes later with the takeout plated in a plastic bowl for you to more easily eat it. You were more grateful for the fork he provided, since you doubted you’d be able to manage chopsticks with your shaking hands. He helped you into a sitting position, propping you up with various pillows and blankets, until you could hold the bowl in your lap while he sat next to you with his food. The mingled scents of soy sauce, sesame and roasted meat drifted up to your nose from the bowl.

You sat there silently, brain too fogged over from pain to really think of anything to say, eating your delicious dinner and waiting for the meds to kick in. Both seemed to help ease your suffering when you were halfway done with the food, and you felt the worst of the tension leak out of your body so that you could form a coherent thought. Swallowing a bite of noodles, you managed to make yourself look up to his face, steeling yourself for whatever you may find there. “Thank you, for helping me.”

He snorted. “I certainly wasn’t going to leave you on the floor.”

No longer hungry, you shoved the bowl further down your legs to wring your hands together. “I.. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, abandoning his own food to look to you, brow quirked up in mild confusion.

“You don’t deserve…” you paused, waving your hands up and down your body, “this. You are so strong and capable and I can’t even do chores around the house without my legs giving out from beneath me.”

“Why was it vitally important that you get the housework done by yourself?” he asked, cupping your jaw to hold your gaze to him when you tried to look away from him.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It needed to be done.” 

“That is what I am here for, kitten. You should not waste your spoons on something so trivial when there are much more enjoyable activities you could partake in,” he said, the hint of a mischievous twinkle lighting up his eyes.

“I’m just so _broken_ and it isn’t going to get better,” you muttered, frustrated again, almost begging him to understand your point of view. He deserved someone whole, beautiful and full of life, to stand by his side. 

You caught the faintest hint of blue blooming on his skin before his hand settled over the knot on your forehead, delightfully cool against the throbbing heat. He leaned against your headboard and carefully maneuvered you so that you were leaning against him, front supported against his side and back by his arm wrapped around you. “You are not broken. Not even close. If I want to see someone who is, I must simply find a mirror.”

Your hand splayed across his stomach, fidgeting idly with a button on his shirt. He was being far too kind about this, but the warm kiss that he left on the crown of your head seemed to travel throughout your whole body, lessening the load on your heart and easing some of your worries. For now. “Since your hands are occupied, you can’t read me any poetry, can you?”

A chuckle, much lighter than the atmosphere of the room only moments before, sounded into your ear through his chest. A book from your nightstand gracefully floated into the air before his face, and the pages turned of their own accord to the bookmark he had placed there the other night. “You underestimate me, darling.”

“How foolish of me, Loki,” you murmured, closing your eyes as you curled into him, losing yourself in the steady and soothing cadence of his heaven-sent voice. 

He’d chosen WB Yeats this time.

_“I have spread my dreams under your feet,”_ he read, his British accent wrapped in velvet. _“Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.”_


End file.
